Yey me! Sad to say, I’m probably going to have the tolerance of a 16 year old girl slamming back her 1st ever berry fizz wine cooler before toppling off of her bar stool. Oh wait, that was me. Only I was 15 at the time. 😉 I don’t know which I’m more excited about. Meeting a fellow blogger (who seems to be able to drink me under the table even on my best days according to her stories) or being able to have a cocktail! Yey for both! As she has picked a *ahem* Irish Pub which is in direct opposition to my love of Martini Bars, I am going to have to adjust my beverage of choice this evening. Sorry bartenders, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do, but I don’t think I’m trusting my martini making to someone who also makes Irish Car Bombs and Kamikaze shots all night long. Heee! I sound like such a snob! Too bad, I am! Okay, not really, but still it’s not like I’m going to go into an Italian restaurant and order a tostada. I will adjust to my surroundings.
Now our 3rd cohort, a lovely woman by the name of JaneDoe that pops into comments every now and again (when she opts to stop lurking) to leave sweet words of humor and inspiration has chickened out of tonight. Some lame excuse about bronchitis, er doctor, deathbed …… whatever. 😉 Although she will be greatly missed, and I hope she feels better soon, the night shall go on.
What exactly does one wear to an Irish Pub? Something green with shamrocks on it? Something pulled from the bottom of the hamper? Something that I would wear to run around town doing errands in? As I don’t really want to stand out like a sore thumb (although I usually do and not for good reasons), I have opted for a light blue mini skirt and a bright pink t-shirt, sanz cleavage. Damn. Well, there’s still time for me to change, we’ll see.
As cocktails are consumed, dating profiles compared, douchey tools and serial winkers (no, not wankers, but same difference really) pointed out and tales of woe and horror dealing with all things internet dating, I will be taking copious mental notes in order to share with everyone. Sadly as I have the memory of a 94 year old gnat lately, don’t be surprised if the synopsis goes something like this: we got there, had some drinks, talked about guys, laughed and then I can’t remember what else ……………. 😉